To Parents of Neurotypical Kids on Behalf of Neurodiverse Kids Like Mine

It seems the days have long passed when all the kids within a community played together, whether they got along perfectly or not. A child of the ’80s, my parents expected me to play with everyone, and based on my recollection, I did. It wasn’t always easy, and I’m sure I wasn’t always happy about it, but I’m grateful this was the expectation because I think it made me a better person. I learned to appreciate difference and enjoy kids of all ages and abilities and with a diversity of temperaments.

I was friends with older kids and younger kids, those who liked being the center of attention and those who preferred to stay in the background, honor roll students and academically challenged students, “the cool kids” and the not so popular ones, easygoing kids and those who could be hard to be in relationship with…they’re the ones who taught me the most.

One of my children falls into that last category, and I’ve watched him struggle and lose friend after friend from the time he was a little guy. While this has been extraordinarily painful for me as a mom, it’s been absolutely devastating for him and has had a tremendous impact on his self-concept and self-esteem, his ability to trust, and his overall well-being.

Typically, friends have gradually faded from his life, at first by no longer inviting him, then by no longer being available for our invitations, and eventually disappearing altogether. There have rarely been conversations about what the problem has been, let alone whether a solution could be found. The tech-age term ghosting comes to mind as a pretty apt description.

When he was little, I could make excuses based in truth to ease his despair when a friend went missing from his life: “They moved,” or “They changed schools,” or “They’re too busy with activities,” or “Because their parents divorced, they need to be with the other parent on the weekends,” and so forth. Now as a young teen he knows the drill and fully recognizes the rejections (both past and present) for what they are.

I can’t fully comprehend what this has done to his spirit, but what my mama heart sees is a child who feels so unworthy of friendship at this point in his life that he’s practically paralyzed to try anymore. He tends to spend most of his free time dwelling in his own imagination or behind a screen. Actually living in relationship with others just feels too hard.

Thankfully, there has been one buddy who has been a constant since preschool. They hit it off on their first day meeting each other when they were just two years old and have managed to remain close, despite not living in the same neighborhood or attending the same school for years. They don’t get to see each other very often, but when they do it doesn’t take long to reconnect, and how desperately my kiddo needs this! That feeling of belonging is EVERYTHING.

Of course every time they get together I brace myself for any difficulty that might arise, especially now that they’re navigating their tumultuous middle school years. I’m keenly aware that change is inevitable and sometimes even the closest relationships don’t survive.

I want to be clear that I know my kid isn’t easy. He’s rough-and-tumble and highly sensitive, which makes for a tricky combination. He’s moody and can be quick to anger. He gets stuck on something (parents of neurodiverse kids know this as perseveration) and has trouble moving on, which makes him seem selfish, even narcissistic at times, e.g. with turn-taking, or doing what someone else wants to do, or being able to hear another perspective. He’s impulsive, and often whatever pops into his mind comes straight out of his mouth; therefore, he sometimes says inappropriate, even hurtful things. Sadly, I think this tendency has worsened over time in direct correlation with all the rejection he’s experienced.

This child of mine is also one of the most loving people I’ve ever known. He cares deeply and is loyal to a fault, and he knows how to apologize as well as forgive (which, let’s be honest, few do well). He’s endlessly curious and inquisitive and finds meaning in everything. He’s especially passionate about animals and their welfare and possesses an innate sense of justice. Because of the unique lens through which he sees the world, he often has a fascinating perspective, and he eagerly engages with anyone who shares his interests. He can be quite theatrical and funny, and he has the most infectious laugh and gorgeous grin. When he’s happy (when he feels safe and valued), he is so sweet and such a joy. I think he’s truly special.

And he’s made a lot of mistakes, many that are typical of all kids just trying to figure things out, but a few big ones with major repercussions. His neurodiversity makes him younger developmentally, more impulsive (already stated, but I can’t express this enough), more impressionable, and more vulnerable in every way than most kids, and I’ve been blindsided a few times by things he’s done that I never could have anticipated. 21st century parenting is not for the faint of heart; add in neurodiversity, particularly when it involves an invisible disability, and it sometimes feels impossible.

I would never expect a child to remain friends with my child in the case of actual, ongoing harm. I do expect parents to teach their neurotypical kids about neurodiversity and to model compassion and understanding. I’d also like to see them encourage their kids to try to work things out with their neurodiverse friends, even when it’s hard, and to ask for help from the adults when they’ve reached an impasse.

Lastly, I’d appreciate them helping their kids understand that kids like mine need and deserve second and even third and fourth chances. Neurodiverse kids tend to make more mistakes and require more opportunities to learn and grow and to make things right. Like everyone, they need friends like they need food and water in order to become their whole selves and reach their full potential.

Ultimately, what I’m asking of parents of neurotypical kids is this:

Please teach your child to be the bigger person, to be kinder, wiser, and more forgiving — because your child can be those things, much more easily than mine can.

Believe me when I say that everything in my child’s life is harder than it is for neurotypical kids. But he can be a really good friend when given the chance, and he more than deserves that chance.

In closing, my kid may be the one in the wrong more times than not, but sometimes it is the neurotypical kid — or even adult, as we’ve unfortunately experienced — who is actually at fault. Of course it’s really easy to let my child be the fall guy. Not only is this incredibly unfair, it’s extremely damaging and just plain wrong.

Respectfully,

A Weary Mama Bear